


I Want a Boy for my Birthday

by shocked_into_shame



Category: The Smiths
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Birthday, Crying During Sex, First Time, M/M, Post-Break Up, Rimming, moz is stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 08:04:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3403067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shocked_into_shame/pseuds/shocked_into_shame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3 months after the band's break-up, Morrissey pays Johnny a visit on his birthday. Hidden feelings come to light.<br/>[Originally posted on Tumblr]</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Want a Boy for my Birthday

 

_October 31 st, 1987_

 

Morrissey takes a deep breath and raps at the large oak door. The quiffed man sighs and shuffles on his feet, unable to stop the pounding of his heart. 3 months. It had been 3 months since he last saw Johnny, and, here he is, uninvited, on his doorstep. The door creaks open, and Johnny's head becomes visible. Brown eyes widen in shock as he catches sight of the sweater-clad man at his doorstep.

“Moz... what are you doing here?” Johnny asks, opening his door completely.

“I figured I'd say this in person and bring this by... Uh. Happy 24th Birthday, Johnny,” Morrissey says shyly, handing over a brown parcel, his cheeks colored rose in his embarrassment.

Johnny clears his throat as he takes the gift, unable to meet the bright blue eyes of his former bandmate. “I.. um. Thank you, Morrissey. You didn't have to.”

“I know but I just figured I would... Is Angie home?” Morrissey asks earnestly. He's missed Johnny _and_ his wife, missed the comfort of being with them.

Johnny shakes his head sadly. “No. Something came up, family problems. She's at her mum's house.”

“All alone on your birthday, then?”

“Well I...” the guitarist reaches into his pocket for a cigarette and lights it quickly. “I don't have to be. You can come in, I'll make some tea, and I can open whatever it is you brought for me.”

 

 

Johnny's home is cozy and warm, and Moz feels comfortable for the first time in what seems like forever in his small kitchen. The scent of tea fills the room, and Johnny is there. Johnny looks relaxed and happy, happier than he ever was in the last 4 months or so of the Smiths. It makes Morrissey's heart ache in his chest. After pouring tea for the two of them, Johnny sits down across from Moz and smiles crookedly.

“Can I open your gift now?”

Morrissey nods and takes a sip of tea. Johnny excitedly opens the brown paper box, and smiles in delight at the contents. Vegan carrot cake, the kind he used to always buy.

“I haven't had this in forever... thanks, Moz.”

“You're welcome. ”

The two sit in silence until, finally, Johnny says what's been on his mind, lets out the thought that's been plaguing him. “You haven't even mentioned the fact that I left, Moz. Aren't you just a little bit curious?”

Morrissey sighs and puts his tea down. “Of course I am. But that was your choice, and I won't question you on it.”

“You didn't even mention it. Did you even care?”

“Of _course_ I cared, Johnny. I still care. I think about the fact that we aren't best friends and the Smiths don't exist anymore all the time. But I can't dwell on it. I don't know what I did to make you want to leave, but I did it and you left and that's all.”

Johnny pounds his fist on the table in a jerk reaction, spilling some of his tea in the process. “You didn't do anything, Moz. I was so stressed out. 23 and practically managing the band, and I'm expected to play guitar and perform and write new music and make sure everything runs smoothly all the time, and be a good husband and friend. And, not to mention, at the end I was sure that you were...” Johnny cuts himself off abruptly, looking at anything but Morrissey.

Thick eyebrows are raised and Moz asks, shyly, “Sure I was what, Johnny?”

Johnny lets out a shaky breath before throwing caution to the wind. “Sure you were in love with me.”

Well, damn. Morrissey gasps and squeezes his eyes shut tightly. He had hoped that Johnny would never catch on to the feelings he harbored. He's kept them to himself for such a long time, not wanting to hurt Johnny in any way. But now the Smiths are done forever, and he hasn't seen Johnny's face in 3 months, and he can't help but let out, “And if I was? If I am?”

“Fuck,” the black-haired man mutters to himself, reaching for another cigarette. “How long?”

“Since you showed up at my doorstep and asked me to be in your band.”

Johnny slams the table again. Morrissey makes a mental note to clean up the tea that's spilled as soon as this situation boils over. “Son of a bitch... You mean to tell me that you loved me through everything? When you were with Annalisa, when you were my best man at my _wedding_ , when I left without explanation, you were in love with me and you didn't say anything?” Johnny's thick Mancunian accent is rising to a shout and Moz winces at the sound of it.

“Yes.”

“Why didn't you say anything?”

“How could I?” Moz asks, shaking his head. “Johnny, that would be so selfish of me. I couldn't jeopardize the band like that, put you in such an awkward position, especially when you were so in love with Angi-”

Moz is cut off as calloused fingertips bring his chin forward and soft lips are pressed firmly against his. Morrissey's eyes are wide open, staring at Johnny's closed lids. Johnny gently moves his lips in attempts to make Moz respond, and it's like a light switching on. Suddenly, Moz goes from complete shock to realizing that _Johnny is kissing him_ and he is kissing back in earnest, whimpering slightly as Johnny's tongue touches his tentatively. He's thought about doing this for so many years, imagined how it would feel to kiss Johnny. Now, his expectations are surpassed, and he can't breathe, and his head is spinning, and all he can smell is cigarettes and tea and Johnny's _kissing him_ he's actually-

Johnny pulls away, lips swollen. “I really wish you would have told me this about 4 years ago, Moz.” Morrissey doesn't know how to respond, just sadly looks into Johnny's brown eyes. Johnny stands up suddenly, grabbing Moz's arm. “Come on. I'm gonna make up for 5 years.”

 

 

 

Their shirts are off and Morrissey's jeans are unbuttoned, and this is not at all how Moz expected things to go. But Johnny's teeth are gently latched to his throat and their erections are rubbing against each other's and Moz can't seem to care about anything but how wonderful this feels.

“I've loved you, too, Moz,” Johnny whispers against the mark he's left on Morrissey's throat. “I've loved you for so long, never thought that you'd ever let me do this to you. I wanna make you feel so good, Mozza. I want you to scream my name.” Johnny's babbling and it doesn't make much sense in the heat of it, but Moz moans in delight, his cheeks flushed and his heart pounding. The idea of being putty in Johnny's hands is thrilling and he wants it, wants _him_ , so very badly.

“Just lie back, let me make you feel good.”

Johnny's mouth trails down Moz's chest and latches onto a nipple, sucking and biting gently. The older man gasps loudly, hands grasping at black hair. “Johnny,” he whimpers desperately and the lips against his skin curve into a smile. His jeans and pants are pulled down together, the hair on his thighs raising. It's not chilly at all.

Johnny continues down to Morrissey's erection, and looks up, shyly. Brown eyes meet hazed blue before he leans down and licks a stripe up the singer's dick. Moz throws his head back and moans, sending jolts down to Johnny's cock. He knows that this is going to be amazing.

Moz expects Johnny to take him into his mouth, so he lets out a frustrated, surprised noise as Johnny pulls away from his dick and moves even lower. “Johnny, what are you-”

Johnny's tongue licks firmly across Moz's hole, and the quiffed man cries out at the foreign feeling. “Jesus Christ, Johnny,” he moans desperately as Johnny continues to rim him. This should be totally disgusting, completely off-putting, but it isn't that at all. It's making Morrissey quiver, his jaw slack, every nerve ending in his body on fire. It's vaguely humiliating, almost too intimate, but it feels so good that tears are beginning to build up in his blue eyes. Johnny pulls away and looks up to see Morrissey crying.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he moves up Moz's body, faces near each other now. “Was that too far? I'm sorry.”

“No, it's just...” Moz gulps a breath of air, desperately trying to calm his crying. “It's so good, and I know that this is it, this is all I'm going to get, Johnny. You're married and...”

Johnny's lips surge forward and kiss away Moz's doubts. Maybe if Moz were thinking rationally, thinking about where those lips had just been, thinking about who's bed he's in, he would pull away, gather his clothing, and leave. But he doesn't.

“Johnny, I want you inside me.”

Johnny moans and clumsily reaches for lube and a condom from his bedside table. “Are you sure? Are you sure you want this?” Morrissey feverishly nods and whimpers as a lube-coated fingertip circles his hole. Johnny kisses him again as he inserts his finger in a quick thrust, muffling the sound of Morrissey's gasp. It hurts slightly, but it's _Johnny_. It's worth it.

Another finger works it way into Moz, stretching him slightly. And now it hurts a lot, and Johnny desperately strokes Moz's flagging erection. “I'm sorry, Mozza. I'm sorry.” But suddenly Moz's prostate is brushed against slightly, and he's throwing his head back and crying out.

“Fuck, fuck Johnny. That's so _good_.”

“Jesus, Moz. You're so tight around my fingers. I've wanted you for so long, baby. I wanna be inside you. Can I?”

Moz nods and closes his eyes, bracing himself. Johnny enters him in a quick thrust, made quick and almost-painless by copious amounts of lube. It's odd, a sensation that Moz can't quite identify, but Johnny is gasping and moaning, and he feels so close to the guitarist. In this moment, he understands why people want to have sex. He understands the strange looks that he got for being 'celibate'. He knows now that there will never be anything quite like this moment, and he will never feel so close to another human being in his life.

Johnny begins a quick rhythm, biting at Moz's neck to muffle the noises he's making. He's never been in anyone so tight before, and this is _Morrissey_ he's with. Silly, beautiful, sarcastic and wonderful Morrissey. Moz wraps his legs around Johnny's waist, wanting him deeper. Johnny's cock is pressing firmly against Morrissey's prostate with every thrust. Neither of them can hold back much longer. When Morrissey throws his head back and screams Johnny's name, cumming a ridiculous amount all over himself, Johnny follows with his own cry, head spinning as they are both hurled into white-hot pleasure.

But then Johnny's orgasm winds down. And he's faced with the situation that's before him. Tremors begin to wrack his body, and he buries his face in Morrissey's thin chest, unable to stop the tears that flood from his eyes. The older man wraps his arms tightly around Johnny's thin frame, burying his face in black hair and repeatedly telling him how much he loves him as Johnny cries himself to sleep.

In the shadow of night, Morrissey writes a quick note and leaves. He won't ever return, he thinks. It's better that way.  


End file.
